The Seventy-Third
by Hero's Chanson
Summary: "It was the first calm night that week — no rain or premature flurries or smoke and orange flames reaching toward the stars. Everything seemed appropriately peaceful that Saturday night in Blüdhaven." Belated birthday fic for Dick Grayson.


It was the first calm night that week — no rain or premature flurries or smoke and orange flames reaching toward the stars. Everything seemed appropriately peaceful that Saturday night in Blüdhaven.

Despite being a rather gentle close to an uneventful day, Dick couldn't shake the feeling that tonight was important. The crisp air as he swung from skyscraper to looming skyscraper did nothing for his memory, but he couldn't dismiss the thought. Even the admittedly gratifying crunch of another car thief's nose couldn't trigger a reminder. And if anything, the adrenaline pulsing through his veins as he dodged rapid gunfire before closing in for the (metaphorical) kill was more a distraction than a recollection.

Finally, after a typical evening patrol, Dick had to file the insistence as little more than dream residue or deja vu or undue paranoia.

He could have entered his apartment through the window and saved about fifteen minutes, but on such a normal night, he felt like being normal. Sociable. Definitely not a habit he picked up from Bruce, he thought snidely. So, he changed into civvies in record time in a nearby alley, whistling something irritating and catchy all the while, before entering his building's lobby.

"Evening, Mr. Grayson," said one of the security officers with a nod.

Dick smiled grandly in response. "Hey, Dave," he said brightly. He walked over and leaned against the desk, glancing briefly at the security monitors. "Anything exciting happening?"

Dave shook his head. "Probably a good thing, huh, sir?" he said with a chuckle.

Dick laughed, too. "If not a little boring."

"How 'bout you, sir? Any plans?"

He shifted his duffel bag and tapped his chin thoughtfully. That niggling deja vu feeling returned with new vigor. "Not really," he said finally with a shrug.

"Young 'un like you should have dates lined up at the door on a night like this." Dave nodded his chin toward said (and incidentally barren) door.

Dick chuckled. "Been busy."

"Well, enjoy it while it lasts, sir." Dave got a wistful look in his eye as he continued: "Youth sure don't last long."

Dick nodded and waved goodbye to the guard before heading to the elevators. It felt sort of surreal to behave this normally: waiting for the elevator, listening to the annoying little tune playing (so that's where he'd gotten it from) when it finally came, watching the doors close agonizingly slowly —

"Hold it please!" shouted a woman just beyond the brass doors.

It took a moment to realize what she was talking about or who she'd said it to before Dick jammed the 'Door Open' button. The doors parted once again to reveal a short, slightly out of breath blond. Her green eyes sparkled as she smiled.

"Thanks," she breathed. She pressed the number '24' and stood a comfortable distance from Dick, stealing what she probably thought were covert glances at him. A blush crept to her face when she caught his eye.

"I'm Breña, by the way," she said, turning to extend a hand. "Breña Peterson."

"Dick Grayson," he replied with a smirk. He took her hand and kissed it gently, never breaking eye contact.

She turned an adorable shade of pink as she took her hand back. "I've heard of you," was all she could manage.

"Not from the tabloids, I hope," he said melodramatically, touching the back of his hand to his forehead. "They make me out to be such a scoundrel." Dick raised an eyebrow as he purred the last word. He'd forgotten how much fun this was.

"W-well, I don't always believe what I read," she said with a nervous giggle. "But I would love to know which parts are true..."

Well played; Dick was impressed. "And I'd love to tell you. Are you free tonight?"

Her eyes lit up in affirmation, but she pretended to mull over it. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Okay. See you in the lobby at nine?"

As if on cue, the elevator dinged and opened on the twenty-fourth floor. Breña stepped out and turned to face him. "Sure," she said with a small smile. The doors closed, leaving Dick alone with that beautiful after image.

He was actually kind of excited. It had been a while (longer than he cared to admit even to himself) since he'd been on a proper date, though not for want of offers. Between midterms and vigilante justice, personal moments were precious, and he usually spent them eating or sleeping. He even had to start scheduling bathroom breaks just to make sure he was going. Speaking of which…

After a quick trip to the bathroom, Dick began contemplating what he would wear for his date. He had barely finished rummaging through his drawers for his long-forgotten favorite tie when he heard an unremarkable little jingle. Couldn't have been his cell, then; all his ringtones were on the Billboard Top 20. It had to be…

Before the thought could materialize, he dove for the duffel bag by the door and dug through it aggressively until he found his comm link.

"Hello?"

"Took you long enough," Bruce said, sounding annoyed and disappointed at once. That he had used the link and not the phone was enough to make Dick swallow his retort.

"What's wrong?" he asked instead, quickly replacing his civvies with his Nightwing armor.

"...your brother decided he'd have some fun and turned Ivy loose."

Dick paused. "Why would Timmy do that?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"It wasn't Tim."

Oh. OH. "Where is he now?"

"Just left the warehouse in Bay 6."

"Why don't you go after him? You're closer."

"I'm tied up. Literally. One of Ivy's vines."

Right. Undoubtedly, Jason had set Ivy free as a distraction or trap for Batman. And, much to Bruce's embarrassment, it had worked. Dick, and very probably Jason himself, would never let him live this one down. He could imagine it now: "Remember that time Jason tricked you?" right before dodging a well-aimed Batarang and laughing hysterically.

"Dick?" Bruce said. His voice sounded strained — Dick attributed it to his being captured and having to resort to asking for help.

"On my way." With that last assurance, he severed the connection and prepared to leap to the gargoyle just beyond his window. He caught sight of the half-planned outfit lying on the bed and sighed. "So much for normal," he said and jumped.

Even going thirty miles over the limit, it took entirely too long getting to Gotham. Then again, his mind, plagued with way too many what-if scenarios, stretched the minutes into hours, distorting all sense of time and simply urging the bike to go faster, and faster still.

Despite the desperate situation, Dick marveled at the absence of the state troopers from their usual outposts. Taking detours to lose them would have eaten up so much more time that he couldn't waste. His last tango with Red Hood made him pay the price for hesitation: a bruised rib, sprained ankle, and fractured ego. Just that memory alone pushed the speedometer needle up a few more notches.

Eventually, he crossed the bridge to the harbor and slowed down a bit. Poison Ivy had left her signature — thorny vines erupting from the sidewalks and coiling around fire hydrants, buildings, and lampposts — laced through the streets of downtown Gotham. Large, fleshy leaves peaked out from the exposed pipes of an apartment building. The building burst into a conflagration, and its residents spilled out. Dick had to slow down even more to dodge the outpour, and though he heard the fire engines in the distance, he lamented that he couldn't stay to help.

Ivy's vines grew thicker and more destructive as he followed them back to Bay 6. More than a few times he had to maneuver his bike onto makeshift ramps just to get through. By 31st Street, it was obvious that the bike was just a nuisance; Dick left it in an alley and climbed to the rooftop of the adjacent building. From there, he could trace the vines back to Bay 6 — not three blocks from where he stood — and beyond. They braided and spiraled around the Ace Chemical factory, in midtown, blocking off all obvious entrances. It looked almost like Poison Ivy was…protecting it.

Dick felt a slight movement of air on the back of his neck. He instinctively cartwheeled forward, twisting in midair to get a look at his attacker. It was Red Hood.

"Reflexes sharp as ever, Nightwing," he said, voice muffled slightly by the helmet. He crouched defensively and looked out at the city, shaking his head slightly. "Give 'em an inch."

"Why, Red?" Dick called. He didn't know why; it's not like Jason was going to just spill his entire plan, not when Dick was still free to stop it. As it stood, this conversation was already the longest they'd had in a while.

Rather than respond, Red Hood casually tossed a few throwing knives his way, all of which Dick batted away easily. Unwilling to drag this out, Dick lunged for Red, but he leaned backward, easily getting out of the attempted grapple.

"Not so fast," Red taunted. "I have important business to attend to first." With a half-hearted salute, Jason back-flipped off the roof and onto the next before turning and dashing off.

Dick followed — though, he had to add smugly, with more finesse — and caught up in no time. It was like Jason wasn't even trying, like he was toying with him or testing him or…

Leading him into a trap. It didn't seem like a typical Red Hood modus operandi; after all, if he were setting a trap, it'd be for a bat, not a bird. Then again, Red was a wild card, and there were first times for everything.

Dick shifted priorities from chasing to stopping. He pounced on Red from behind just as he paused to jump to the next building and tackled him to the ground. There was switch from Red's previous sort of playful demeanor into something more primal, more violent, more…Jason. He suddenly stopped struggling, and that confused Dick for a moment — which, apparently, was all Red needed. Through a series of quick, deliberate motions, he'd inverted their positions so that he was practically sitting on Dick's chest. Their last fight had gone along such similar grooves, and Dick refused to be embarrassed twice. He managed to pull his knees to his chest and kicked Red up and away before leaping to his feet.

Dick watched Jason fly over the edge of the rooftop, and satisfaction turned to horror.

"Red…?" he called tentatively. He walked slowly toward the edge, afraid to look down and see a broken heap of what used to be Jason Todd. Nonetheless, he had to know. He had barely peeked down before a gloved hand grabbed his ankle and pulled. Yep, this was feeling very familiar.

Red Hood pulled himself up, using Dick as leverage, before pushing Dick over the edge instead. Careful to keep his feet out of arm's reach, Jason crouched down and watched Dick hang onto the ledge.

"You care too much, Dickie," he said. He stood, walked back, and ran forward to the next rooftop.

Dick could feel it, his ego plummeting and shattering into all-too familiar shards. Jason wasn't going to get away this time. He kicked off the building and somersaulted to the adjacent one. Red Hood was still in sight; he couldn't apprehend him again from this distance, but he could still follow.

After a few minutes, Red finally reached Ace. Interestingly enough, the vines that held the facility prisoner were wilting and loosening their hold. Batman must have been able to attack the source. They were weak enough for Red to dive right into the eighteenth floor window unabated, with Dick right on his tail.

Red Hood looked up at Dick's entry from where he was typing away at a super-computer terminal. "Oh, don't mind me, Nightwing," he said nonchalantly. "Just finishing this up…there." He pressed 'Enter' with an air of finality. Not two seconds later, the building trembled.

"The hell did you do?" Dick said, fixing Red with a glare. Again, he didn't expect Jason to just open up, but having harsh words to back up the glare helped.

"If you wanna know, you'll have to catch me," he replied in a sing-song voice before running out of the room.

Dick was really getting tired of chasing him. And to think, he could be spending the evening with his charming neighbor…Bruce so owed him.

Regrets aside, Dick followed Red down the hall, up an elevator chute, onto the roof, and through midtown. If he weren't annoyed and so focused on bringing this to an end, Dick would laugh because, for all of Jason's talk of independence, he was practically fleeing towards…wait, it couldn't be.

But when Jason deactivated the false wall, Dick could deny it no longer: Jason was running toward the Batcave. When Dick was inside, Jason reactivated the wall and took off his helmet.

"Now, be a good boy and follow me," he said smoothly.

"Wait…what?" Dick watched Jason stop and turn back to face him.

He could practically see Jason roll his eyes under the domino. "Just trust me for once, will ya? It couldn't hurt." Before Dick could protest that, Jason added, "Well, not this time."

Dick groaned but said nothing and followed Jason through the tunnel. It was a bit awkward (understatement!) between them, especially during the elevator ride up to the mansion foyer. Confined space, silent partner…Dick wanted to say something for the sake of hearing a voice, but how could he? Luckily, the grandfather clock shifted aside quickly enough to reveal —

"Surprise!" shouted everyone in the room.

"What the —?"

"Watch it," Barbara said, "there are children here." She nodded toward Tim, who rolled his eyes at being labeled a child.

Dick peeled off his mask (Jason, who had stalked off to the nearest dark corner, did the same) and looked around. "What are you all doing here?" He glanced up at the archway, from which hung a very bright 'Happy Birthday!' banner. Birthday?

So that's what that deja vu feeling had been.

"Can I just explain it?" Tim asked excitedly. "He looks so confused."

Barbara smiled and Bruce shrugged.

"Okay, so, Babs and I wanted to throw you a surprise party but we didn't know how to get you to come without giving it away. So we —"

Jason cut in. "So they came to me, begging me to save the day."

"I wouldn't call it begging," Barbara said with a smirk. "More like pointing out that you owed Dick since he got you that new console you were ogling for your birthday."

"Shut up! I wasn't ogling it!" Jason folded his arms across his chest and looked away defiantly.

"He was ogling," Barbara stage whispered to Bruce.

"Anyway," Tim continued, "we told Jason to cause a little mayhem downtown to lure you in."

"And of course he goes and releases a super villain from Arkham," Bruce said through grit teeth.

"It worked," Jason mumbled.

"That's true," Tim admitted grudgingly.

A moment of silence passed before everyone laughed, except Dick, who was still absorbing all the info. Incidentally, he noticed they were all in casual wear besides himself and Jason.

"I'm gonna go change," Dick said slowly.

"Oh, good idea," Barbara said with a clap, "the others should be here soon. Jason, you too."

Jason's eyes grew. "Wait, you don't expect me to actually stay, do you?"

"Duh," Tim said, rolling his eyes. "You'd just complain later about not getting any cake."

"But…I don't have any clothes here."

"Sure you do, young master," Alfred replied. "I always keep spares."

"But…" Jason ran out of arguments. He huffed and abruptly left the foyer. Dick followed.

"Can't believe you did all that for me," Dick said softly.

"It was their plan," Jason replied. "I just liked the idea of kicking your ass. Again."

The insult didn't even stick. "But still...thanks."

"Whatever. God, you're annoying." Jason shook his head and continued down the hall to his old room.

When the two were dressed in civvies, they headed down to the ballroom. It was decked with blue and silver streamers and balloons and sprinkled with guests. Above the fireplace hung another banner, bigger than the last, which said 'Happy 21st' in blue, rounded letters.

All the guests turned to greet him simultaneously when he walked in, becoming a cacophony of well-wishes and good intentions. Dick could only smile brightly and thank them all, returning hugs and handshakes with gusto.

"So," Barbara said when he got to her, "how does it feel to finally be old enough to drink?" She raised an eyebrow and handed him a flute of bubbly.

"What are you talking about?" he said as he took the glass. "I've been drinking since —" Suddenly the air around them chilled. Dick looked around and saw Bruce glaring at him from across the room, apparently having overheard the comment. "— since never!" he said dramatically, laughing nervously in punctuation. He gulped the champagne down and tried to ignore Barbara's snickers.

"No fair, I didn't get any!" Tim said, pouting.

"You have to be my age, Timmy," Dick said with a lopsided smile.

"Dude, you're so old. You're, like, seventy-three."

Dick punched him lightly on the arm. "Twenty-one and legal, dumbass," he said with a laugh.

"Well Jason's drinking," Tim said lowly. The two looked over and, sure enough, saw Jason sipping champagne in a dark corner. Dick admired his audacity to do it with Bruce right there, for Christ's sake.

"Tell and we're both dead," Dick whispered as he handed Tim his own glass.

Tim's eyes lit up and he scampered off, carrying the flute like it was the Olympic torch.

After a few drinks and a failed barbershop quartet rendition of "We Are Young" with Dick, Tim, Roy Harper, and an extremely reluctant Jason, they decided it was time for gift opening. Most of them were endearing and neat — a cruise from Bruce, fine wine from Alfred, a landscape portrait from Barbara. Some were funny — an all-access pass to the Playhouse Mansion from Roy, lingerie from Tim (to everyone's astonishment). A few were even surprising — a pair of opera tickets from Jason.

Once all the gifts were unwrapped, Alfred wheeled in a huge cake with an edible pop-up representation of upper Gotham. Tim stuck the candles in, focused on spacing them out perfectly while everyone else laughed at the display of dedication. When he had finally finished, Alfred lit the candles and dimmed the chandelier. On Barbara's count, they sang 'Happy Birthday' in (almost) perfect harmony. When they finished, Dick drew in a breath to blow out the candles.

"Wait!" Tim cried. "You have to make a wish."

"But I don't want anything else," Dick said, making several people go "Aww," but Tim persisted.

"But it's tradition."

"Fine." Dick thought for a moment. "I wish —"

"Not out loud!" Barbara said.

"Gosh, Dick, every year," Bruce said, shaking his head.

"Fine," he repeated more tensely. He closed his eyes and internalized his wish. Then he blew out the candles. It was dark for a moment before the candles relit. Trick candles. Of course. "I hate you guys so much," he said as they roared in laughter.

It took the three brothers and ten minutes to extinguish all the flames permanently, and, much to their mutual embarrassment, everyone else had enjoyed the show, even snapping a few pictures of their frustration. At last, the chandelier was turned back up and everyone lined up to each feed Dick a forkful of the first slice. Of course, this meant he ended up with more of it on his face than in his mouth, but it was too late to stop his crazy friends.

Rounding up the line was Jason, who looked like he'd really rather be elsewhere.

"You stayed," Dick said, a smile in his blue eyes.

"Yeah…" Jason said, looking anywhere but straight ahead. He picked up the fork and scraped a little frosting off the top of the slice. He studied it carefully, seeming unsure of what to do.

"You really don't have to," Dick said, and he meant it. He, for one, was tired of wiping frosting off his nose.

Jason slowly put the fork down and looked around. Dick did the same. Everyone else had returned to standing around and talking, each holding a plate of cake and chips. Tim was bouncing around, jumping from conversation to conversation. Even Bruce was clinking glasses with the Commissioner and clapping him on the back. No one was paying them any mind.

"Well…I'm out of here," Jason said. "Happy birthday and all that." He waved his hand to dismiss the comment.

"Did you have fun?"

Before Jason could say anything, Dick shoved the fork into Jason's mouth. Jason's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in irritation. Dick laughed as he took the fork back out and set it aside.

"Isn't it good?" he said smugly.

Jason glowered for a moment longer before grudgingly nodding. He swallowed and said "I hate you so much."

"Love you, too, Jay."


End file.
